


Papercuts and Fireballs

by N16



Series: To Kill a Nightmare [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angry Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Bromance, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Male Friendship, Merlin is kind of an idiot, Oblivious Merlin, Post-Magic Reveal, Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Protective Gwaine (Merlin), Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:20:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27507490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/N16/pseuds/N16
Summary: Merlin gave his word that he wouldn't keep secrets from Arthur again, and he meant it. Unfortunately, when Merlin gets injured, it turns out they don't necessarily see eye-to-eye about what counts as a "secret."
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: To Kill a Nightmare [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007190
Comments: 50
Kudos: 538





	Papercuts and Fireballs

**Author's Note:**

> This is set after To Kill a Nightmare. If you haven't read TKaN, there might be bits and pieces that don't make sense, so I recommend reading that first.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

"Arthur, I am not in the mood for this today. Get your royal ass out of bed now, because I swear, if I have to drag you out physically, I will make a point of ensuring your entire day is a living hell."

Arthur opened one eye blearily. "Well, aren't you a ray of sunshine this morning," he croaked through the thick layer of sleep in his throat.

"Long night," Merlin muttered, grabbing a tunic out of the wardrobe and storming back over. "Up. _Now_."

"Yes, sire!" He infused as much sarcasm as he could into the words, but Merlin just glared until Arthur reluctantly pushed himself upright and made his way out of bed. "Why such a long night?"

"Nothing. I was just—" Merlin broke off suddenly, earning him a suspicious look from the king.

"You were about to lie to me," Arthur accused, and Merlin looked away guiltily.

"Old habits," he grumbled. "But I caught myself, didn't I?"

"I suppose." Arthur eyed him warily. "So where were you? The not-lying version?"

"I was picking some herbs for Gaius that can only be gathered at night," he started, and Arthur snickered.

"This is the _not_ lying version?"

Merlin shoved Arthur's clothes at him and stomped over to the table, leaving the king to dress himself. Arthur tried to hide his laugh as he pulled the shirt on.

"I'm sorry," he said with unabashed insincerity. "Tell me what happened."

"Are you going to interrupt again?" Merlin snapped, and Arthur held his hands up apologetically.

"I will be silent as a mouse until your story is done."

Merlin gave him a skeptical look, but continued his tale. "I was picking herbs in the middle of the night, and some bandits found me. Thought I looked like easy pickings, I guess, wandering around at night by myself. They wanted my money, but I didn't have any, because I'm grossly underpaid for everything I do—"

"You are the highest paid servant in the castle," Arthur protested. "Possibly in all of Camelot."

That brought Merlin up short. "Am I really?"

"You _are_ the personal servant to the king," Arthur pointed out. "It should come with some perks beyond just the honor of the position and the pleasure of my company."

Merlin snorted at that. "Then you need to pay your other servants more, in addition to giving me a raise."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "A conversation for another time. So there were bandits?"

"And they wanted my nonexistent money," Merlin confirmed. "You know how things went from there. Swords were drawn. Magic was done. Swords were dropped. Bandits were thrown. The usual. But then it turned out they had a man with them who had some magic of his own, so it got a bit more complicated. Not much more complicated, but a little more magic was done than normal."

Arthur frowned in concern. "Are you all right?"

Merlin waved a hand dismissively. "It was nothing I couldn't handle. In the end, I was able to knock them all unconscious, either through actual hits to the head or just putting them to sleep with magic. No one died, so that was nice. I like it when no one dies."

"But there are still bandits running around the woods with a sorcerer with them?" Arthur asked, alarmed, and Merlin shrugged.

"I couldn't very well bring them in, could I? How would I explain that I took down an entire group of bandits, including a sorcerer, all by myself?"

Arthur sighed. Life would be so much easier once the ban on magic was lifted, but he knew these things couldn't be rushed. He had to do it right.

"I'll send out a patrol today to look for them," he said grimly. "I'll tell the knights you saw the bandits and ran away. I won't mention anything about a fight." Then he thought for a moment. "Although maybe I'll see if I can make Percival and Elyan part of it, and then I could let them know. That way they're prepared for any magic surprises."

He sat down at the table, then blinked at the plate before him.

"Merlin, is this my breakfast?"

His servant raised his eyebrows. "Unless you don't want it? I'll be happy to, uh…dispose of it for you, if you're not hungry."

"You must have already 'disposed of' half of it!" Arthur exclaimed as he looked around the table as though more food might appear on it. "Gods, Merlin, you didn't even use a meal tray! That's—" Arthur paused, taking a closer look at the much smaller tray sitting down the table from him. "That's a dessert tray servants use when they have to carry food around at a celebration!"

"Very good!" Merlin said admiringly. "You must pay more attention to the servants at celebrations than I thought! Or do you only know that because you pay such close attention to Gwen?"

Arthur threw a roll at him, missing by several feet and immediately regretting it. It had been his only roll. And Merlin's smirk just added insult to injury.

"I need my armor polished before training this afternoon," Arthur instructed, feeling satisfied as the smirk fell, just as he knew it would. "You also need to wash my clothes, and then this afternoon, I have a council meeting followed by court, so I'll need you there."

Merlin visibly winced when he mentioned laundry, but relaxed once he mentioned the meeting and court. It was a bit of an odd reaction, but not something Arthur thought worth commenting on.

As he prepared to head out to talk to Leon about the patrol, Merlin gathered the armor – rather slower than usual, Arthur noted, probably due to his lack of sleep and the fight the night before – and then dropped it all on the table. Arthur raised his eyebrows as he sat down next to it, picking up the breastplate and starting to polish.

"Polishing armor is typically done in the armory, you know," Arthur said dryly. "Not on my dinner table."

"Then I would have to carry it to the armory," Merlin complained. "You're not even going to be here, so why do you care?"

"It's a matter of propri—" he started, then gave up. If there's one thing he'd learned with Merlin, it was to pick his battles. "You know what, never mind. Just don't make a mess. Or if you do, clean it up."

* * *

Merlin did make a mess. And he did not clean it up.

When Arthur returned from various errands a couple of hours later, Merlin was gone. But the armor still sat in a pile on the table (although Arthur had to admit that it _did_ appear to be polished), with a couple of dirty polishing rags next to it. The basket of dirty laundry, which Merlin was supposed to be washing, was sitting on its side, half of the clothes spilling out of it.

"It's a good thing he's useful with magic, because he's worthless as a servant," Arthur muttered in genuine irritation, staring at the disarray.

It wouldn't have been that big of a deal, except he'd asked Gwen to have lunch with him today, and he'd rather his chambers not look like they'd just been ransacked when she arrived.

He gave it a few minutes, but when Merlin still hadn't shown back up, Arthur went looking for him. He only had to ask a couple of people before a nervous servant informed him that he'd seen Merlin heading in the direction of Gaius's chambers several minutes earlier, and Arthur headed purposefully in that direction.

Honestly, he gave Merlin quite a bit of leeway with his chores. A ridiculous amount of leeway, actually. After all, hadn't he just allowed him to polish armor right there in the royal chambers? But this disappearing midday thing had to stop. If Merlin was off to fight some sort of magical threat, he should tell Arthur that. And if he was off flirting with a serving girl instead of doing his _job_ , then he should be reminded that, sorcerer or not, Arthur could still put him in the stocks.

Arthur knocked twice, loudly, before letting himself into Gaius's chambers, then stopped short at what he saw.

Merlin was sitting on the vacant patient's cot with his shirt off. A whole array of medical supplies and a pile of bloody bandages cluttered the cot next to him, and a pot of steaming water sat on the floor by his feet. He glanced up when Arthur entered and winced apologetically.

"I know, I know," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'm slacking on my duties. But I bandaged this in a hurry this morning and didn't do the best job, and when I tried to pick up the armor, the bandage slipped and the cut pulled open and started bleeding again. Or bleeding more, I guess. Anyway, I thought I'd just ignore it and pick up the armor later, but then I made it worse when I tried to get the laundry." He shook his head. "I should have just used magic," he muttered, half to himself. "I try not to use it on my chores, but it would have made everything much simpler."

Arthur only half heard him, his attention focused on the blood covering Merlin's torso. It seemed to be coming from a wound starting a few inches under his right armpit and ending near his navel. A very fresh, disturbingly deep wound.

Arthur spoke slowly in his attempt to keep his voice even. "What the hell happened to you?"

Merlin scowled, although Arthur wasn't sure if it was in response to the question or in response to his attempts to tend to the gash as he dabbed at it with a cloth.

"One of the bandits last night was exceptionally skilled with a sword," he explained, sounding irritated by the fact. "He got me while I was distracted by the sorcerer."

Arthur approached slowly, his eyes still on the wound. "You were stabbed?" he clarified.

"Uh, more slashed than stabbed, I think." Merlin sounded unconcerned about the whole thing, as though getting sliced open was something that happened every week. "Honestly, I probably ought to stitch it," he said, making a face. "I didn't this morning because I was going to be late. But if you're willing to let me skip the council meeting and do the laundry this afternoon, I could do it now. It really would be better than just bandaging it again."

"You didn't stitch it this morning because you were worried about being late," Arthur repeated, wondering if Merlin heard just how absurd those words sounded when spoken aloud.

"You get very grumpy when I'm late," he said with a laugh.

Arthur did not laugh with him.

Merlin looked up, finally noticing Arthur's demeanor. "Don't look so worried, sire," he said with a cheery smile, "I'll be back in time to serve your lunch. You won't go hungry, I promise."

He knew that smile. It was Merlin's normal smile. His everyday, everything-is-fine smile.

Arthur knew Merlin had lied to him many, many times. Big lies, little lies, absurd lies, lies of omission. But realizing he could fake that smile while seriously injured disturbed Arthur in a way he couldn't even put into words.

"Does this happen a lot?" he asked, his voice flat, and the smile faltered.

"Not a lot," Merlin said cautiously, preparing some thread to sew the wound closed. "But sometimes. It's really not a big deal, Arthur."

"And you never told me?"

He scoffed. "I couldn't really, could I? 'Hey Arthur, look at my nifty wound! I got it doing illegal magic!'"

"You could have told me about this one."

Merlin's face turned thoughtful, his eyes registering genuine surprise. "Yes, I suppose I could have," he agreed. "I didn't really think about it."

"You didn't think to tell me you got stabbed," Arthur repeated, and Merlin huffed, starting to look annoyed.

"Slashed, not stabbed. And no, I didn't think of it. Because it's _not a big deal_."

"You told me about the fight. You could have mentioned it then. But no, you said, and I quote, 'It was nothing you couldn't handle.'"

"Exactly," Merlin said, pausing between stitches to gesture to his handiwork. "And here I am. _Handling it_." The look on his face turned from annoyed to wary. "That is not my favorite expression," he observed, glancing at Arthur before resuming his stitching.

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Oh really?"

"I've seen that expression before," Merlin said with unconvincing nonchalance. "And then you punched me."

"Oh?" Arthur questioned sarcastically. "Is it the expression I have on my face when I am _absolutely furious_?"

"Uh, yes, I think it is. Hopefully this goes without saying, but I would greatly appreciate it if you didn't punch me today. I'll be fine, but I do think I'm in quite enough pain for the moment, if it's all the same to you."

Arthur wasn't going to punch him, but he was definitely considering smacking him upside the head. Or throttling him.

"It's not all the same to me," he answered, clenching his hands into fists and tucking them behind his back to keep himself from acting on those thoughts. "What the _hell_ , Merlin? I thought we had a deal! No more lies or secrets!"

Merlin gave him a quick inquisitive glance before returning his attention to his work. "It wasn't a lie or a secret. Honest. Do you want me to start detailing every single minute of my day? Would you like to hear about the piss I took this morning as well?"

Tucking his hands behind his back was not going to do the trick, so Arthur moved to the other side of the room. "I don't need to know about your bladder," he said tightly. "But I _do_ need to know if you're injured!"

"I got a papercut yesterday when I was writing your speech," Merlin tossed out carelessly.

" _Damn it_ , Merlin, this isn't funny! There's a world of difference between a papercut and getting stabbed—"

"Slashed."

"—and you _know_ it! Don't pretend like you need me to break this down for you!"

Merlin sighed and finished the last stitch, then dipped a rag in the water and began cleaning the blood off his torso.

"You're blowing this out of proportion," he grumbled.

A thought suddenly occurred to Arthur.

"Why don't you just heal it?"

Merlin gave him that sideways look that said his servant thought Arthur was an idiot. "I did. As much as I could, I mean. Believe me, it looked way worse before…" he trailed off, freezing briefly as he realized that was the wrong thing to say. "I mean, not way worse. A little bit worse. Not worse at all?" He watched Arthur with wide eyes as the king began to pace.

"I've always known you were an idiot," Arthur snapped. "I just didn't realize you took it as a personal challenge to outdo yourself at every turn. When you say you _handled_ something, I assume it means you got by without any major injuries! How am I supposed to help you when you're still _keeping secrets from me_! And don't you _dare_ say you weren't keeping it a secret, you…you incompetent, lying, clumsy, foolish…I swear, are you completely lacking in common sense? Or any instinct for self-preservation?"

He looked over to see Merlin chewing his lip, looking increasingly nervous. Which seemed wrong, because Merlin should know that once Arthur resorted to listing generic insults, it normally meant his rage had peaked and was beginning to burn out.

Oh no.

"What is it?" he demanded, his shoulders sinking with dread. Because that was the only explanation. There was something Merlin wasn't telling him.

"If you want to be told about minor battle wounds," Merlin started weakly (and Arthur gave him the fiercest scowl he could muster at the word "minor"), "I guess I should probably tell you about the burn on my back from the sorcerer?"

Arthur took a deep breath and counted to five. "Yes," he agreed tightly. "I guess you should. Let me see."

Merlin winced as he tried to stand, and Arthur hurried over to help him to his feet, earning him a grateful look in response. Then Arthur grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around.

There on Merlin's back was a truly disgusting circle of burned flesh slightly larger than Arthur's fist.

"What happened?" he whispered, staring at it in horror; he'd never seen anything quite like it before.

"Fireball," Merlin said casually. "While I was fighting the bandit who _slashed_ me. Turned out to be a stroke of luck though, because that one fireball basically used up all of his magic for the moment, so he was easy to subdue after that."

"Yeah," Arthur muttered. "Lucky you. Why isn't it bandaged?"

"Because," Merlin replied, "it's on my _back_ , and Gaius was gone by the time I got in this morning. I'll have him bandage it when I see him later." He was using _that_ voice again, and it officially pushed Arthur over the edge.

"Merlin, I think I'm being _very_ understanding right now, considering you broke your promise about not keeping secrets from me—"

"Did not."

"Yes, damn it, _you did_! But I'm about to become far _less_ understanding if you say _one more word_ in that tone that says I'm an idiot. Do you understand me?"

Merlin was quiet for a moment before he nodded. "Sorry," he murmured, and Arthur calmed somewhat when he seemed genuinely contrite. "You know, you don't need to worry about me, Arthur. I can take care of myself."

Arthur snorted. "Clearly."

Merlin shook his head and turned back around. "Honestly, you're making this out to be bigger than it is. It's not like anything is broken."

Arthur took a step back as though Merlin had physically struck him, and it took Merlin a moment to realize what he'd said.

"Not that – I mean, for gods' sakes, Arthur, obviously this is worse than a fractured rib!"

"First it wasn't that bad, now it's worse than broken bones?" Arthur demanded bitterly, and Merlin sighed.

"It was fractured, not broken."

"I know I'm not a physician, Merlin, but I've had enough battle injuries to know that fractured counts as broken."

Merlin frowned. "Come on, Arthur. You said you're sorry. I forgave you. Why are we even talking about this again?"

Arthur exhaled heavily through his nose, then made a motion with his hand. "Turn around," he ordered, letting the subject drop. "I may not be Gaius, but I can bandage a burn."

Merlin turned obediently. "Use the dark one," he said, gesturing to one of the jars lying on the cot.

Arthur studied the wound for a moment, then shook his head and muttered a string of colorful expletives as he noticed the dirt and lint from Merlin's clothes caught in the skin.

"Well, wasn't that creative?" a voice drawled from the doorway, and both Arthur and Merlin jumped.

"I came to talk to Gaius," Gwaine explained, eyeing them curiously. "What's going on?"

Merlin and Arthur answered at the same time.

"Arthur is wallowing and being melodramatic."

"Merlin got himself stabbed and set on fire."

"You what?" Gwaine demanded in shock, his attention immediately going to Merlin, and Arthur smirked victoriously while Merlin rolled his eyes.

"I was not stabbed _or_ set on fire," he insisted. "That's part of Arthur being melodramatic. I got a little bit cut by a sword, and then I got hit by a fireball. Which is entirely different from being set on fire." Arthur scoffed at that. "It _is_! They're two completely different spells!"

"Oh, well, if they're different _spells_."

Merlin gave a longsuffering sigh. "He's being impossible," he complained to Gwaine.

The knight came closer, eyeing the long gash, less gruesome now that it was sewn closed, but still impressive. It didn't help that Merlin hadn't finished cleaning the blood off the skin below it. Then Gwaine shook his head and let out an appreciative whistle.

"That'll leave a pretty scar. It'll be a great story for the ladies, at least." His eyes narrowed as he took another step closer. "Damn, Merlin. I think you already have plenty of scars for the ladies, don't you?"

Arthur took a closer look, noticing for the first time what Gwaine had seen immediately. Merlin's torso was covered in obvious scars, still pink and puckered from the attack by the maera. But underneath those, a whole collection of older scars marred his skin. Some he could identify – stab wounds, mace wounds, a couple of marks that looked like they may have come from an arrow. But others were harder to place.

"What's that?" he asked, gesturing to a line of oddly shaped marks.

"Uh, magical chains, courtesy of Morgause. They burned me when I tried to get free," Merlin said uncomfortably. "Listen, this is a fun game and all, but I'd appreciate it if we _didn't_ do this. I know I have a lot of scars. We really don't need to go through them one by one."

Arthur spotted one on his chest that he wouldn't have been able to place an hour ago, but now seemed familiar.

"So that wasn't your first fireball," he said quietly.

Merlin followed his gaze. "No," he admitted.

"Oh yeah," Gwaine remembered. "Fireball. Where'd that hit?"

Arthur reached for Merlin's shoulders again, but Merlin swatted his hands away, only to cringe at the movement. "I'm perfectly capable of turning in a half circle by myself," he snapped.

Gwaine went silent when he saw the wound. And silence from Gwaine was more worrisome than just about anything he might say.

"It will be fine. I promise," Merlin insisted, his exasperation obvious. "Now will you please let it go? Or should we invite the rest of the knights in here to stare too?" Then he added under his breath, "This was so much easier when I just handled it all on my own."

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur snapped, taken aback by how much those words stung. Then he turned his attention to Gwaine, whose face was unreadable.

"What happened to this sorcerer?" the knight asked finally.

"He was working with a group of bandits. There's a patrol out looking for them now."

Gwaine nodded once, then left the room without another word. Merlin turned around in surprise at the sound of the door.

"Did he leave?"

"I'm pretty sure he's going to go find the patrol and join them," Arthur said flatly. "Now turn back around. I'm going to have to clean that thing, and it's going to hurt."

Sure enough, Merlin couldn't contain various pained noises, even though Arthur worked as gently as he could.

"Sorry," he said quietly. "I know Gaius would be better."

"Gaius isn't here," Merlin acknowledged, his voice tight. "I appreciate you doing it. It doesn't exactly fall under your list of kingly duties."

"Yes, well, getting hit with fireballs doesn't exactly fall under your list of servant duties."

"It actually happened while I was doing work for Gaius," Merlin pointed out, and Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Fine. It doesn't exactly fall under your list of physician's assistant duties."

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes while Arthur worked, Merlin's occasional hisses and grunts the only sounds as Arthur finished cleaning the burn and began applying the smelly paste from the jar.

"You're clearly angry with me," Merlin said finally, "but I don't really understand why."

"Is that a joke?" Arthur asked darkly.

"No, sire."

It was the "sire" that made him pause, his hand hovering over the burn as he stared at the back of Merlin's head in disbelief. The man was serious. He truly did not understand why Arthur was angry.

He let out a hard laugh as he resumed working, forcing himself to keep his hands gentle despite his frustration. "Maybe because you nearly got yourself killed. Or maybe because you came to work without fully treating the wounds. Or maybe because you didn't tell me. And even without considering your promise about secrets, I _really_ don't understand why you wouldn't tell me! You complain when your feet are cold, Merlin. Why wouldn't you mention this? And then, after all that, you said you'd rather just handle it on your own! Even though 'handling it on your own' meant bleeding everywhere and letting the burn get infected!"

Merlin bowed his head, and Arthur wished he could see his face, because he took an excruciatingly long time to reply.

"It's just what I'm used to, Arthur. All of this…it's a lot of change for me. A lot of change, happening _really_ quickly. And don't get me wrong, it's good change. I shouldn't have said that. And it wasn't true. I like that I don't have to do everything alone anymore. I'm just…I'm still learning how to do this."

The words "learn faster" made it to the tip of Arthur's tongue before he choked them back down. "Part of me wants to make you swear you'll tell me next time. But Merlin, I can't demand a promise for every little thing. You already promised no more secrets. And I believe you that maybe you didn't deliberately intend it to be a secret, but honestly, you have to use some common sense. Did you really think I wouldn't want to know about this? And then to try to do your chores with these injuries…did you hit your head as well?"

"The chores still need to be done," Merlin said, starting to shrug, then wincing and abandoning the motion partway through when it pulled at his skin.

"I told you I'd hire a second servant," Arthur reminded him as he began bandaging the burn. "You're the one who's been delaying it."

"They'd do it wrong," Merlin muttered sullenly, and Arthur let out an unexpected laugh.

"You mean they _wouldn't_ jump in front of fireballs?"

Merlin just gave another half-shrug.

"Hold still," Arthur ordered.

"What if I just…you know, delegated some things?"

"Delegated?" Arthur echoed skeptically.

"You're a king, Arthur. Please tell me you know what delegating means."

Arthur flicked him in the back of the head in response, which was the most violence he was willing to inflict at the moment.

"You can start by _delegating_ the laundry. And everything else on the agenda for today. You need to heal up. And not carry anything heavy for a few days. And…whatever else Gaius says."

Arthur secured the bandage, and Merlin turned back around. "So all it takes to get a day off is getting stabbed? I'll tuck that away for future reference."

"You weren't stabbed," Arthur pointed out.

"I was maybe a little bit stabbed. I should probably get two days off." Merlin grinned, that completely normal, highly disturbing grin that gave no indication he was in pain.

"No," Arthur argued. "Look at me." He waited until he had Merlin's undivided attention, then said, slowly and deliberately, "'Stabbed' is what you will be if you ever keep something like this from me again. Understood?"

"Understood," Merlin said solemnly.

But as Arthur turned away, he heard Merlin add something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like, "Melodramatic."


End file.
